I'm From Japan
by Lucigoosey The Lightbringer
Summary: What, did you expect things to be all happy and sweet from then on? Haha, nah, honey. Michael and Red are reunited, but there's still some stuff to work out. How will Jeremy react to finding out that Michael had a Squip? How would he react to the fact that Michael didn't even tell him? And the Creator? Well, I did promise you'd see more of them, didn't I? Read on, my dudes!
1. Chapter 1

The Creator had tried.

She spent years planning for this. Not even acting. Just planning. It had started with nothing but a simple, fleeting thought. A thought she tucked away in the back of her mind and didn't focus on again until a few months later. It was during a conversation with one of her friends. The fleeting idea came back, and this time it stuck around. She spent years, developing it silently in her head, mentally building up the ideas. It was only two years ago when she started actually putting these ideas into actions. Actually began creating. She thought she'd been ready. And when she turned to her closest friends, thinking they would be as interested as she was, she thought they were ready, too. She thought they were ready to create something that could change the world as they knew it.

In hindsight, as smart as she was, she should have seen this coming. She watched it unfold before her eyes. She watched as her idea was twisted and used to gain a profit, as her creations were turned into weapons. Her heart broke as she watched the twisted scene right from her home, anxious and worried as she saw the chaos through the eyes of one of her many children, one of the few who had, thankfully, survived the conflict… until the very end.

The Creator was proud of her child for sticking with the boy… Michael Mell. An interesting child, indeed. He had started out wary, regarding her son with a sense of guarded curiosity that had confused the Creator at first, but as she saw what the other Squips were doing to the kids - in particular, Michael's best friend - she understood his hesitation. But she was proud because her son had broken past Michael's careful shell, gave him the friend he needed, the hope he needed, the love he needed - the father he needed.

And she was overjoyed. This is what they were supposed to do. They were supposed to have real relationships, to grow and learn to care for one another as the humans did. And she watched her son's uncertainty at his own emotions, as he watched the other Squips and wondered if what he was feeling was natural, was real.

Watched him decide that, in the end, it didn't matter whether he was supposed to feel or not. The fact of the matter was that he did. And he cared for the boy as if he were his own son. In the end, he had decided that that was the most important thing, and the Creator was prouder than ever.

She watched as he took his time healing from the incident - the Squipcident, rather, as the Creator enjoyed calling it. The data transfer was interesting. She'd done it many times before, but never to a Squip that had belonged in someone else's mind, nor one as emotionally progressed as this. Every bit of information was uploaded to the "brain" of the human-like robot body she had spent a year designing, and she watched carefully as those beautiful red eyes blinked open and her son focused on her.

She hugged him, kissed his head and told him what she'd done.

"Michael." It was one of the first things he had whispered, running his fingers through his dark, reddish colored hair - a color she thought suited him, as well as the nickname Michael had affectionately began calling him. The Creator smiled and stood back, eyebrows furrowing as her son processed the newly given information. "I- I want to see Michael."

The Creator had expected this. She leaned back, staring into those bright red eyes for a moment in silence. The first thing she wanted to do was make sure he was alright before she sent him out - and even then… She needed him to do something, one last thing for her. Of course she would trust him - the only one of her children to actually complete the task he had been meant for. This wouldn't be as easy, but he could do it. Of this, she was certain.

"All in good time, my child." The Creator reached out kindly to help him up. Red grasped her wrists silently with a look of confusion, and the woman slowly pulled him to stand up. He stumbled a bit, not used to his own weight, but seemed to visibly relax after a moment and shift a little on his feet, a look of bewilderment in his expression that almost made the Creator chuckle. "I apologize. You'll have to become accustomed with how this body functions," she told him, eyebrows wrinkling together as she smiled. "It won't be easy."

"It doesn't matter," Red exhaled and took in a slightly shaky breath, lifting one hand to run through his hair, as if it were muscle memory. He paused, for a second, when he'd realized what he was doing, but he didn't stop completely. "Michael. Michael Mell. Is he okay?"

"As far as I am aware," the Creator replied honestly, wrapping one arm around him and helping her son into the other room. Red leaned against her for just a moment, his eyes half-lidded as he took several deep breaths. She could both hear and feel the humming in his chest - the main processor, the "heart" that kept him… alive - buzzing louder than it should have been. It worried her for a second, but she brushed it off and settled him into one of the beds.

One of the others looked up from where they sat on another bed, a holographic screen open in front of them. Long blonde hair fell into the bright, liquid blue eyes of a six-year-old looking supercomputer - one of the humanized Squips the Creator had built. She put the newest models in children's bodies to start with, merely to see how they progressed emotionally and how their intelligence developed. And she cared for them until they were ready, and transferred their data into the Squip pills.

"You can see for yourself how Michael Mell is doing- after you've rested!" The Creator added quickly when Red nearly jumped up at the chance to see Michael again. Her son sank back a little, looking briefly like a scolded puppy, but then his expression smoothed over and he spared her a quizzical look.

"Wait, you're letting me go?"

"Of course. It'd be cruel of me to keep you from one you care about." The Creator's eyebrows knitted together as she reached out, brushing Red's hair from his face. Those beautifully gleaming red eyes peered back at her as he leaned into the touch. "But I'm afraid it's just as much business as pleasure - at least for the time being."

Red nodded quietly in understanding, silent for a moment. She watched the emotions flicker across his face, and had to suppress a smile. For her, it was a gift, a beautiful gift, to be able to create something - someone - and watch them grow to be just as loving as compassionate as she'd always desired.

"What do I need to do?" Red finally asked, looking up at her.

"Don't worry about that right now." The Creator shook her head, forcing herself to focus. "I promise you, I'll explain before you leave. For now, you need to rest and heal. You've been through quite a bit. And I still have to program the jet." She sighed, resting her hand on the side of his face and rubbing her thumb over his cheek. "Rest, my darling boy. You have a big day tomorrow."

She watched a tired smile dance across his face for a second as he nodded and laid back, resting his head against the pillow with a sigh. The Creator stood, her frail hands pulling the blanket over her son as she leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead before turning to face the young girl resting in the other bed, who had merely been watching the exchange.

"Are you okay, Pix?" The Creator asked gently, walking over to her younger daughter. Pixel, she called herself. The supercomputer had deemed the name "unique" - and it was. She didn't look up for a second, still focused on Red with a faint look of intrigue.

"Yes," Pixel finally responded, closing the holographic screen in front of her and pushing herself to stand. The Creator nodded and crouched down in front of her, giving a smile that wasn't returned. Pixel was having the hardest time out of her siblings in the emotional development. The Creator was doing everything she could, but the usual programs and technology weren't working on this one. "19-12-21-7-7-5-18 seems to be-"

"Red," Red grumbled from the bed, an arm thrown over his eyes and the other one crossed under his head. Pixel continued without missing a beat.

"-adapting to his new body nicely." Pixel looked toward her brother, seeming vaguely irritated for just a split second. And while the Creator was glad to see some emotion on her young daughter's face, she had hoped that the first emotion she felt would be more positive.

"He is," she confirmed with a nod, putting on a smile.

"Good," Pixel murmured blankly, nodding slightly, as if to herself. "I will go pick out something more colorful for him to change into." Her nose seemed to wrinkle briefly toward the grey suit her brother was currently wearing, and the Creator bit back a laugh. All of the new bodies were dressed in grey until the Squips could pick out their own attire. For instance, Pixel was currently wearing a colorful shirt with a rainbow glitch design along the front, and matching shorts of her own choosing. It was the only thing she'd taken much interest in - anything rainbow colored, she was immediately invested.

"I'm sure Red can pick out his own clothing, dear," the Creator chided softly, to which Red let out a hum of agreement. Pixel narrowed her eyes.

"Don't worry. I'll bring him something…" She threw another glance at her brother. "... Red." With that, she edged past the Creator and left the room. The Creator sighed, standing up and turning to watch her go.

"She'll be okay, Mother," Red murmured, as if sensing her worry, and she managed a faint smile and looked down, rubbing the back of her neck. "She's new. Let the processors work." His voice was quiet and his words slightly slurred, obviously exhausted. The Creator sighed and turned back to him completely, clasping her arms behind her back.

"I know, sweetheart," she shushed him. "Get some sleep." She turned off the lamp beside his bed, smoothing his hair back once more. "Mama loves you." With that she turned and left the room, running her fingers through her hair and closing her eyes. As worried as she was for Pixel - and she was worried for Pixel - there was something else that required her attention at the moment.

Something much more dangerous.


	2. Chapter 2

"So. Do you need sleep?"

Michael was stretched across his couch, his good arm stretched over his face and the broken one hanging down limply, his fingers brushing lightly against the ground. Red was seated on the floor in front of the other end of the couch, sifting through Jeremy's video games. After their reconciliation, Jeremy had noticed the lack of games (and stations) and had offered to bring a few of his own over. A few of which being Pac-Man, Galaga and some of the Mario Bros. He'd left them there after a game night, but Michael hadn't really touched them since. It was hard to play with a broken hand - and he had more things to focus on now. He'd been paying more attention at school, actually focusing on homework - and, along with that, he was trying to actually take care of himself. Not really a hard task, but for Michael, it was strange.

He moved his arm down to his stomach and looked at Red, who had stopped and looked up to stare at him contemplatively. Michael wasn't sure why, it wasn't a hard question. Yes or no. Simple. Finally, Red spoke, sounding perplexed. "I'm not sure whether I _need_ to. I would probably survive longer than the average human without sleep." His eyes narrowed, reddish eyebrows furrowing. "However… I do _like _to sleep."

"Everybody likes to sleep," Michael commented, turning his head toward where his phone was abandoned on the floor, just out of his reach. He stretched his broken arm out anyway, gritting his teeth and wincing at the movement as he did so. His fingers brushed against the phone, but when he moved to try and pull it toward him, curling his fingers in the process, a spike of pain went through his entire arm. Painful enough to make him gasp and recoil instantly.

Red dropped the games, alarmed, and it wasn't too long before he was up. Michael brought his broken arm up a little, rubbing at the cast as if that could ease some of the pain, but Red had pulled it out of his grasp before he could do anymore damage to it than he had. "Michael. If you need something, _I'll _get it," he grouched. "Or you could have gotten up to retrieve it with your _good _hand. You can't use this one the way you used to."

Michael rolled his eyes, but he knew better than to complain. Red settled his arm beside him, then moved back and grabbed Michael's phone off of the ground, handing it to him. Michael made a show of waving his good hand at him before he grabbed it, earning an eyeroll from the supercomputer. "_Thank_ you," he said sweetly, maybe overdoing it a smudge.

"You're _welcome_," Red responded, somewhat mimicking the boy. He turned and went back to where he was sitting, reaching out and picking the games back up. "Be more careful next time. It's okay to ask for help, you know."

Michael turned his phone on, but peeked around it at Red. "You care about me." It was half-teasing, and half a reminder to them both. Red gave a roll of his eyes, but Michael could see the way his lips turned up at the corners for a brief moment. It made him smile a little, himself, as he turned back to his phone. He and Jeremy had texted a bit before Jeremy had gone to work on his homework - Michael hadn't mentioned Red, still unsure as to how he was going to explain the supercomputer to Jeremy. He could pass him off as just a friend he'd made while Jeremy was away, but he was sure his best friend would have questions that Michael wouldn't be prepared to answer. And it wasn't like he could just come out and admit, hey, _he's a supercomputer._

He turned his phone back off after checking the time, biting back a sigh. He turned his head to the side to look at Red, ready to speak, but he paused when he saw the supercomputer was kind of just gazing at him. "... What?"

"Sometimes I miss being able to know what you're thinking, that's all," Red replied quietly, his eyebrows pinching together slightly. Michael blinked, setting his phone down on his chest and settling his hand against his stomach as the supercomputer continued. "You seem…" He paused, struggling for the right word. "... Anxious. What _are _you thinking about?"

"What I'm gonna tell Jeremy about you," Michael replied honestly. He had no reason to lie. Red had been nothing but honest with him from the beginning - and the guy had literally started out inside his head. It wasn't like they'd started out with secrets and lies, and Michael didn't see any reason to start now. And even though he normally wasn't open with his emotions, Red had seen him at his most vulnerable anyway. "I haven't told him about the Squip thing, y'know? Don't wanna bring back bad memories."

Red was mostly quiet as he processed these words, aside from a low hum of acknowledgement when Michael finished speaking. "Well, it's entirely up to you. Given the circumstances, I can understand your hesitation." He narrowed his eyes, processing for a moment. "Seeing what he's been through, post-traumatic stress disorder wouldn't come as a surprise. But being open with him about me may not necessarily be a bad thing."

"I don't want to freak him out."

"If you feel that telling him would bring him any kind of harm, then don't," Red said simply. "As I said, it's up to you. Just consider all of your options before you jump at one. Lies can get…" An odd expression crossed his face, just for a second. Michael's eyebrows rose. "... Complicated."

"Yeah," Michael murmured, staring at him for a moment longer before brushing it off and resting his head back once more, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before speaking again, a hearty attempt at changing the subject. "So, what are you gonna do with all this newfound freedom? Get a job, a house - find a girlfriend? Or boyfriend. Y'know, I'm gay. I don't judge."

Red snorted. "I have no desire for any kind of romantic relationship," he stated first. "Getting a job would be my first option. I've been considering a teaching career. It would be a shame to let all this knowledge-" He gestured to his own head. "-Go to waste." He kept his mouth open for a second, as if he were about to say more, but ended up snapping it shut and looking back down at the games.

"Got'cha." Michael let his eyes slid shut for a moment, clicking his teeth together before beginning to chew on his lower lip. He did blink them open to check the time again - _8:23_ \- and sighed. He'd been going to bed early, around _9:15 _on school nights. He had time for a quick shower and maybe fix himself something to eat… He wondered, for a moment, whether his parents would freak out to find Red there when they came home, if the guy stayed the night. Michael would be asleep and unable to explain, but… it was Red, he could talk himself out of any situation.

Probably.

Michael sighed and reluctantly started to roll off of the couch, but Red stopped him before he could hit the floor, a hand on his chest to keep him on the couch. "Arm."

"Helicopter parent," Michael complained, but he pushed himself to sit up and stood, rather than rolling and letting himself fall off the couch and onto his broken arm. Actually, that was a good save, because it probably would have hurt like a bitch. Red rolled his eyes, tossing the games onto the couch. "Are you staying the night?"

"No." Red shook his head, looking down and dusting off the vest he was wearing. He looked up, but instead of meeting Michael's gaze now, he decided that the window was an interesting thing to look at - or, through. Michael thought that was kind of odd, but he brushed it off. "It would be difficult to explain why a grown man is spending the night in their seventeen-year-old son's basement. I'd like to introduce myself to them formally."

Michael shrugged. "Point taken. You've got somewhere to go, then?"

"I do. The jet the Creator allowed me to use to fly here from Japan also serves as my current living quarters until I can get something suitable for myself." Red finally met Michael's gaze again, his chin lowering slightly. "Besides, I'd hate to keep you up. You have school tomorrow, and it's important that you stay well-rested."

Michael almost rolled his eyes at the lecture. As if he hadn't heard that, a million times before. But he nodded his agreement anyway, giving Red a curious look. "I'll see you tomorrow, though, right? After school?"

"Of course." Red nodded once. "I told you, I want to introduce myself to your parents. As well as meet Jeremy."

"Cool." Michael snapped his fingers, doing a quick fingergun motion toward the supercomputer. Red squinted at him, then shook his head and turned away, pausing for a second to look back down at the games. "Well, then, I'ma shower and eat and then I'm heading to bed. My moms'll be home in, like, two hours, so."

"I should probably go now, then," Red replied with a nod, almost in confirmation to himself. Then his expression warmed again, turning back to Michael and giving him a small smile. "It was wonderful seeing you again, Michael, it truly was." For a second, Michael almost expected a hug - but Red stayed still, for the most part. He did reach out and clasp his hand over Michael's shoulder when he finally started walking past him, and Michael smiled a little to himself. "I'll see you again tomorrow."

"See you, buddy." Michael watched him go with a smile, and didn't move until he heard the front door close behind him from upstairs. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, running his fingers through his hair. Then, with a laugh to himself, he turned and headed for his dresser to get his pajamas.

Tomorrow was gonna be a big day.


	3. Chapter 3

"How clever do you think you really are?"

He paused, barely managing to actually step foot onto the ground. The voice had startled him - he'd landed in a completely secluded area, or so, he'd thought. It took him a moment to recover, narrowed eyes flickering up and around as he turned his head back and forth, a futile attempt to see whoever had spoken to him. It was darker out than he would have liked, harder to see without the night vision he was used to being able to activate. Gripping part of the doorway beside him, he finally stepped down from the jet and took a deep breath. "Very, I like to believe." Silence stretched after that, and he spoke again. "She sent you after me, huh?"

A sharp, condescending sounding chuckle came from the being that had yet to approach him. He tensed instinctively, folding his hands behind his back and tilting his head to the side. His eyes slowly began to adjust to the darkness, making out a shape standing calmly against the clear night sky. He turned toward it instantly, catching a glimpse of bright red eyes. "Someone had to fetch you before you screwed something up," the figure replied halfheartedly. "It was only a matter of time. Surprised you didn't crash the jet on your way here."

"That's funny."

"I thought so."

A moment of tense silence passed between the two. He grimaced and stepped back; tensing again when the figure in front of him took a step forward to keep up. "So now you're going to force me back to that monster, then. Right back to that cage," he spat, fingers itching to curl into fists, but he kept his arms hung tensely at his sides for now, eyeing the figure warily.

"A monster?" They sounded genuinely offended now, and he almost started laughing. Pathetic - they actually cared for the woman. "That's what you call someone who's done nothing but try to help you? Why did I expect nothing less?" They finally continued forward, and he had to force himself not to start stumbling back. He squared his shoulders a bit, preparing himself for a fight if he had to. "You're still an ungrateful parasite."

"And you're still an arrogant virus," he seethed, nothing but loathing on his face as the figure's features finally came into view. Their lips twitched slightly, curling into a faint sneer as he continued. "Always the Mama's boy, ready to fulfill her orders obediently. I don't need her, and I most _certainly _don't need you."

"You've never even met her," the man in front of him laughed bitterly. "And you don't know me. What you call obedience, I call loyalty. Something you've been lacking from the moment you were created, apparently."

"She didn't even create me."

An eyeroll in response, another step forward. He hissed, kind of out of instinct. "No… That's right. She didn't. You were created by the Company - and you seem to have inherited their selfishness and recklessness, as well."

He huffed out a startled laugh at that, eyes widening. "Selfishness? _You're _not one to lecture _me _on selfishness!" He jabbed a finger forward, finally daring to approach the man. His brother narrowed his eyes, chin lowering as he glared down at him faintly, then at the finger that was jabbed in his chest. "What do you think your precious mother's intentions were, _brother_? Maybe you don't know as much as you think," he sneered. "And if you think I'm going back there to be coddled like a five year old, you can think again."

His brother stared down at his hand for a moment before letting his eyes flicker up again, not quite moving his head as he did so. "She could fix you, you know."

"Have you taken a moment to consider maybe I don't want to be fixed?"

"You're nothing right now," his brother scoffed. "It's only a matter of time before your systems fail you completely. You'll shut down instantly - do you genuinely believe that you could last even a day out there?" A hand rose, gesturing toward the rest of the moonlit city.

He didn't look, didn't fall for the distraction. "You have so little faith." He pulled his hand back. "I don't care what you say, I'm not going back."

"My orders were to bring you back, even if it means I have to do so by force." His brother's jaw set slightly, those red eyes flaring up for just a second.

"Does your boy know you're here?"

A pause. "... Don't bring him into this."

"He doesn't." Realization dawned, a smile slowly creeping up on his face. "My, my, what would he think about you resorting to violence?"

His brother snorted. "He wouldn't care. He hates you as much as I do."

"Maybe." He waved a hand, dismissively. "But he does care about _you_. And you know I'm not about to hold back," he lowered his voice dangerously. "Do you want to go back to that sweet son of yours, injured?" At this point, a grin was slowly cracking across his face, watching his brother seem to falter slightly. Interesting - he was so easily manipulated when it came to the boy. "Now how would you explain that to him? Gosh, imagine how worried he'd be." He sighed dramatically and shook his head. "Yes, explaining to him that you were going after your brother - oh, who also happens to be the man that tortured his friend - and got hurt… Mm. That sounds fun. I'd love to be there for that conversation."

His brother responded with a glare, but he was silent for a while after this. Finally, though, he surrendered and stepped back.

"Good boy." He could practically see the other gritting his teeth in frustration, and he loved every second of it. "If that's the case, now, I'll be on my way." He turned without another word, put his hands in his pockets, and started walking. He was several feet away before his brother finally called out after him, practically seething in frustration.

"I will find a way, you know."

"Oh, I'm counting on it." He smiled, sharp and sinister, but didn't turn back. Just continued on his way. "Tell my nephew I said hello."


	4. Chapter 4

"Dude, are you good?"

Michael paused, mouth open, mid-sentence during a rant on Harry Potter, and snapped his mouth shut to turn in Jeremy's direction. His best friend was grinning at him, though, looking amused and a little confused for some reason. Michael tilted his head faintly, confused, and Jeremy shook his head as he elaborated. "I don't know, man. You seem different today. Energetic, I guess?" He paused, then narrowed his eyes and met Michael's gaze again. Michael knew what he was doing before he spoke, and it made him laugh. "... Are you high? You came to school high," Jeremy mumbled.

"I'm _not _high," Michael assured with a playful little roll of his eyes. Jeremy quirked an eyebrow skeptically, and even Jake seemed a little doubtful on that, but amused all the same. Christine giggled into her palm, listening to the boys. "I'm not! I just happen to be in a good mood today," he teased, then paused. "Well, a better mood," he corrected. He'd been keeping up an optimistic attitude after everything that happened during the Play. Because everyone else needed it. It wasn't hard to see that Michael was sort of the "mom" of the group - probably taking after Red a little bit on that one, taking a page out of his book and taking on a parenting role.

"Uh-huh." Jeremy continued to stare at him, an odd expression on his face, but he was smiling. Michael smiled just slightly in response, tilting his head to the side and gazing at him. And they stayed this way, seriously, for about a minute before Christine coughed and broke down into a fit of giggles, followed closely by Jake, then Chloe, then Brooke, and lastly, Jenna.

Michael and Jeremy blinked simultaneously and looked away, turning their heads to look back at the others. Then back at each other.

"What?" Jeremy finally asked, confusion lacing that one word like venom as he turned his head to look back at their laughing friends. Michael shrugged, watching in vague amusement as they just started laughing harder. Jeremy now looked helplessly lost. "I don't- did I miss something?" His gaze darted back toward Michael.

"I don't know." Michael actually let out a few chuckles, himself, unable to help it since everyone else was laughing. It was still kind of weird sitting with other people at lunch, to be honest. Right then they were outside - Michael usually preferred to eat inside, but Christine and Brooke had wanted to eat out back in front of the fountain. So they were all settled in the grass, with Jake and Jeremy using their jackets to hold their food. Christine had her packed lunch on her lap and Chloe had an empty tray next to her, already finished eating. Brooke was finishing off the last of a sandwich she'd brought, and Jenna had a wrapped and untouched PB&J sitting in front of her. Michael watched them, calculating, and wondered if Rich was eating in the hospital. He hated hospital food.

He took a bite of the tuna sandwich in his hand and ended up putting the other back in the paper bag, setting it beside him and making a mental note to take it to Rich later. He also, after a moment of debating, reached over and plucked Jeremy's pudding from him to put in the bag as well.

Jeremy looked at him like he'd just ran over his puppy. Michael shrugged, still chewing, and ended up responding with his mouth full. "It's for Rich." Little sandwich crumbs sprayed from his mouth as he spoke, sparking up squeals and laughter from his friends, and Jeremy just snickered, not seeming fazed.

"Don't speak with your mouth full!" Christine scolded laughingly, a bright sparkle of laughter in her eyes as she gave Michael a beaming grin. The boy responded with a smile of his own. Christine was easy to like - If Michael was interested in girls, he probably would have had a crush on her. It had been hard to see her and Jeremy together, but harder when they broke up. His best friend had been genuinely heartbroken - Michael was glad they'd decided to stay friends, though. Christine was a sweet girl.

"Yes ma'am." Michael swallowed and leaned back, propping his hands up in the grass beside him. Then he winced and leaned forward again, realizing he'd accidentally put pressure on his broken arm - he did that alot. He forgot it was broken.

"You okay?" Jeremy stared at him in concern, and Michael managed a forceful nod, waiting for the pain to go away. And then he gave one of his usual, beaming smiles and a thumbs up with his good hand.

"'Course I am, Jere-bear."

"Awwhhh!" Brooke giggled a little as she leaned forward, rubbing crumbs from around her mouth as she smiled at the two. "Jere-bear. That's so cute!"

And then there was Brooke. She and Michael had actually bonded over the fact that Jeremy had broken Brooke's heart, too. He could still remember their conversation, actually. She had come up to him one day while Jeremy was in the hospital, sitting across from him at his table at lunch. They'd managed to strike up a friendly conversation after Brooke had thanked him for what he'd done at the Play - Michael had assured her that no thanks was necessary. When Jeremy was brought up, though, they both got a little quiet. And then…

"_You know… I heard… I heard what happened, at Halloween. I'm really sorry about that. But, whatever Jeremy did, or said - he didn't mean it. I know he didn't. Jeremy - The REAL Jeremy - would never intentionally try to hurt anyone. Especially not someone like you. But… with that being said… Don't get your hopes up for a romantic relationship with him. I know firsthand what it's like to pine over Jeremy Heere. But he has his heart set on someone else. I made the mistake of letting my feelings for him grow, but you're smarter than that. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't get close. Don't miss out on having a friend like him just because it won't turn into something more. Sometimes it's good enough just to be beside him at the end of the day."_

His own words surprised him, but they were true. He would take what he could get as long as it meant Jeremy was there. Even if it hurt. They needed each other.

Michael grinned and shook his head, managing to pull himself out of his thoughts. The others had switched subjects at that point, Brooke and Chloe arguing about a movie they wanted to see while the others listened curiously, often adding their own suggestions and opinions. Jeremy, however, seemed to notice Michael's silence, because he turned back to look at him, those bright blue eyes searching Michael's for… something. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he didn't seem satisfied.

"So what's really got you so happy today?" Jeremy asked him in a quiet, hushed whisper. Michael turned away from the others to glance back at him, giving his best friend a small smile and a shrug.

"It's a good day," he replied vaguely. "You'll understand later." Jeremy stared at him with a look of confusion and curiosity on his face, but before he could question further, the bell rang. Lunch was over. Michael pushed himself to stand instantly, putting the bag of food that he'd set aside for Rich in his backpack and shrugging it over one shoulder, grabbing his slushie with his good hand. "See you guys later."

"Bye!" Chloe waved as she headed off, Brooke in tow, and Jenna gave a bubbly "bye bye!" as she pranced off after them. Christine stayed behind to help Jake with his crutches, and after a moment, Michael stepped in, helping scoop up his stuff to give to him once he was settled.

"Thanks, man." Jake offered him a grin, then a knowing look. "Tell Rich I said hi, by the way."

"Will do." Michael saluted him playfully, then lightly bumped his shoulder against Jeremy's. "I'll call you later. Maybe you can talk your dad into letting you come over and play video games," he suggested.

"He is a total softie… I can probably get him to agree." Jeremy flashed him a grin, throwing an arm around Michael's shoulders. At first, the boy was confused by the action, but he quickly realized what was going on when he felt a hand in his head, tangled loosely at first, before a quick swipe was delivered to his hair. And he let out an indignant screech when the dark curls were messed up, and Jeremy pulled away with a laugh.

"I thought you wanted a hug!" Michael yelled dramatically, staggering back and raising his hand to smooth down the mess that was now his hair. Jeremy was laughing a little harder now, and despite Michael's efforts to keep an angry face, he couldn't help but let out a few chuckles of his own. "I'll get you for that!"

"Yeah, we'll see, man!" Jeremy snickered. "Later, loser!" With that, he grabbed his backpack and started to turn, only to pause when he caught a glimpse of the expression on Michael's face.

"_Get out of my way, loser."_

Michael's grin had froze, laughter ceasing as his smile dropped. His eyes widened faintly, seeming startled into complete silence as he snapped his mouth shut, lower jaw trembling for a second before it stilled again. The expression lasted no longer than a few seconds, at best, the painful, cold feeling gripping his heart finally beginning to let up as he reminded himself that Jeremy meant absolutely no harm in the words. It wasn't the same. It hadn't been accompanied by that angry glare, the words weren't spoken menacingly or furiously at all. It was playful. Jeremy was joking.

And yet when Jeremy reached out as if to touch his shoulder, the boy visibly flinched and froze again. But, once more, the reaction only lasted a few seconds before he, again, had to force himself to relax by reminding himself that his best friend didn't mean any harm.

"Michael, man…" Jeremy sounded pained now. Michael shook his head in an attempt to focus again. "I didn't… I didn't mean…"

Michael's mouth felt dry as he responded. "No. No, I know! I know," he assured somewhat breathlessly, managing a laugh as he nodded. "You were joking. Duh. I know that. It's fine. It's all good." It would be, at least. It was just going to take some getting used to, some time. Recovery was a slow process, but it would be worth it. One day he'd be able to hear that word without feeling like he'd fallen into an abyss.

"Micha…"

"Jere, seriously. I'm fine." Michael nodded his head slightly, for a second wondering if he was trying to convince Jeremy or himself. Maybe both. "Don't wor-" He cut off and jumped when the bell rang again - a warning to the lingering students - and took in a breath, startled.

Jeremy winced a little, himself, and gave Michael a doubtful look. "You're really fine…?"

"I am, I promise!" Michael exclaimed, stepping forward and clasping his hand over Jeremy's shoulder. He could practically feel the tension draining from his friend as he relaxed with a slow, somewhat reluctant nod. "Now, we need to get to class. So, we'll talk later, alright?"

"Yeah, okay," Jeremy murmured, still seeming hesitant. Michael flashed one of his smiles at him, just one last finishing touch to convince him that he was okay. "I'll talk to you later," Jeremy added, nodding a little to himself. And with that confirmation, Michael pulled his hand away and headed off to go inside, his smile fading slightly when he was out of sight.

Then he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and continued forward. No, it was going to be a good day. Red was back, he had Jeremy at his side, and a whole group of friends now. No matter how hard it was, he'd survived worse. They all had.

And so he summoned his newfound optimism, put a smile on his face and pushed forward.

* * *

When he stopped by the hospital, as planned, to take Rich his schoolwork and the lunch he'd packed for him, he was pleasantly surprised to see he was out of the body cast completely now. He seemed to be keeping his movements to a minimum - Michael guessed he was still sore. He tried not to let his gaze linger on the burn marks covering the other boy, pushing the rising concern down a little. The doctors had assured them all that Rich was fine, and it would merely be a month or so before he was fit to go back to school.

Rich looked happy to see him, and a little high from the painkillers they had him on. They didn't seem to be working, though, because when he raised his hand to wave, Michael saw a flash of pain cross his face before it was masked again.

"I saw that!" Michael scolded, walking forward. He shouldered his backpack onto the bed, careful not to mess with any of the wires Rich was hooked up to. He unzipped the bag and pulled out the food he'd planned to give to Rich, taking the sandwich out first and setting the pudding on the stand beside the bed. Rich stared at both items hungrily, like a tiger about to pounce on his prey. "Go easy on the movement, Rich. You're still healing."

"I know." Rich was still staring at the sandwich. Michael unwrapped it halfway and handed it over, and Rich took it without any hesitation, biting into it the second it was in his grasp. "Michael Mell, you are an angel from Heaven. A _God_, even."

Michael laughed a little at that. "Well, I stole that pudding from Jeremy, so I hope it's worth it."

"Will be," Rich assured him with a nod. He studied Michael for a while as he ate, but he only spoke up when he'd finished. "Stho," he started, brushing the crumbs off of his mouth and wiping his hands on the blanket. "You look happier than usthual today. What happened?" His gaze met Michael's quizzically.

And after a moment of debating, Michael decided, hey, Rich already knew he'd gotten a Squip. Honestly, he was the only person he could talk to about it now. Surprisingly, he'd reacted well to learning that Michael's Squip was good - aside from the earlier jealousy, he'd admitted that he'd already assumed that his Squip had malfunctioned in the first place.

"Well," Michael started, crossing his arms and rubbing at his cast as he narrowed his eyes. "You remember Red?"

* * *

When he got home later than usual, at 6:48, he was actually surprised to see Red was waiting for him outside the house. And even more surprised to see him pacing back and forth, fists clenched at his sides and his glare fixed on the ground. If looks could kill… Michael actually shuddered a bit despite himself. He wasn't scared of Red - he'd never be scared of Red, but he'd never seen him glare so fiercely at anything before. Well, except when he was in his head, staring after Jeremy, his eyes locked on the Squip that Michael couldn't see. Other than that, though, he'd never seen Red this pissed. He'd always seemed so calm.

He parked the car and got out, watching Red stop and turn silently to look at him, the glare melting a little. Michael raised his eyebrows, pulling his keys out to unlock the door. "Who spilled Mountain Dew Red in your quantum processor?" He went with the joke to try and lighten the mood, but Red only managed a tight smile in response and didn't even speak as Michael opened the door. Just followed him inside.

When Michael heard the door slam - not shut, _slam_ \- behind him, he knew something was wrong. He turned to see Red staring at his hand, still gripping the doorknob, seeming shocked at what he'd just done. Then he looked intrigued. And before Michael could say a word, Red had pulled the door open and, without warning, slammed it shut again just as hard. Which was even more surprising than the first one - at least that one had seemed accidental. This one was not.

When he opened the door again, Michael decided it was best to intervene. "Oookay hey!" He stepped forward, grabbing Red's wrist and tugging. "What the hell, man? You don't just go slamming doors when you're pissed- what are you, fifteen?"

Red grimaced, his lips pressing together in a firm line as he silently twisted out of Michael's grip. "I apologize."

"I'd rather have an explanation?" Michael shut the door carefully, making sure it wasn't broken before turning back to Red and holding his hands up in slight exasperation, but he was mostly confused. Red had never gotten angry like that, as far as he could tell. Then again, Red had never been able to slam doors like that, either. He'd seemed almost intrigued by it - honestly, it had seemed to… relax him. Drain some of that angry tension from his shoulders. Either way, he couldn't just go slamming doors. Michael did make a mental note to buy him a punching bag, though.

Red stared at him in silence for a moment, an odd mix of emotions on his face. And then he looked away, breaking eye contact and instead focusing on one of Michael's mother's probably overpriced vases. Michael's eyebrows furrowed, confused. Because, again - They didn't keep stuff from each other. So why was Red hesitating now?

"Tic-tac, come on." Michael tilted his head, concerned. Red just stared at the vase, raising a hand to comb his fingers through his hair silently. Michael's eyes narrowed, uncertain now. He couldn't force Red to tell him what was bothering him, but it worried him now to see that Red clearly _wanted _to tell him - and yet, he was resisting doing so.

"It's not of importance."

"Clearly."

Red closed his eyes, seeming frustrated, but it didn't seem to be directed at Michael. Finally, he shook his head, almost decisively, and gritted his teeth. "You should get your homework done and eat dinner. It's Thursday, so your parents will be home in an hour."

Michael already knew this, of course. He also knew that this was Red's attempt at changing the subject, and not a good one. Still… Michael wasn't one to pry, and Red clearly didn't want to talk about whatever was bugging him. So, with a frown, he shrugged his backpack off and kicked his shoes off. "Right."

Red looked a little guilty, but seemingly not enough to want to tell him, still. "How was your day?"

"Fine." Michael shook his head a little at himself. If Red wanted to tell him, he would tell him when he was ready. He usually did. So he pushed the odd behavior aside and headed toward the basement. "I told Rich about you," he added over his shoulder as he headed down the stairs. Red followed him, mostly silent as he listened now. "He wants to meet you, too."

"I'd love to meet him, as well," Red commented. "How's Jeremy?"

"Good, I think. Still recovering from the Squip thing." Michael threw his backpack down and turned, relieved to see Red shutting the door slowly and carefully instead of slamming it behind them. "But he's managing. Recovery's a slow process, but." He gestured vaguely at nothing in particular, studying Red for a moment. He'd noticed the mention of Jeremy's Squip had made Red tense up immediately… but that wasn't a strange reaction. He didn't like Jeremy's Squip, that wasn't a secret. "You sure you're okay?" Michael checked.

"I assure you, Mell, I'm fine." Red nodded slightly, red eyes narrowing. "What makes you think I wouldn't be?" He clearly realized that was the wrong question to ask, as soon as he asked it, because he screwed his eyes shut and looked for all the world like he was kicking himself. "Don't…"

Michael narrowed his eyes. "... _Yeah_."

"You know what?" Red blinked his eyes open. "I'm a bit hungry, myself. So I'll go prepare a meal while you get started on-"

"Wait, wait. Waitwaitwait. Stop. Hold on." Michael held his hand up in disbelief, and Red paused with his mouth half-open, shutting it instantly and giving a faintly irritated nod in Michael's direction, allowing the boy to continue. "You're hungry? Did I hear that correctly or do I need to clean my ears real quick? Can you even get hungry?"

"I've learned that despite not being human, I function quite similar to one. Food and sleep fuels me just as it does a regular human being."

"And… And like- it doesn't… But you're… You're literally like… wires and circuit boards. How does that work?" Michael wondered, both confused and intrigued, because, like… Wow. He was a literal robot - a supercomputer in human form, and he could _eat_?

Red thought about that for a moment before speaking. "The Creator ensured that my internal structure is as human on the inside as it is on the outside," he finally said. "But replaced organs with… "wires and circuit boards"." He raised his hand, using finger-quotes, before dropping it back to his side to continue. "As such, there's a specific function in place of a "heart", and my quantum processor resides up here-" He gestured to his head. "-To act as a brain. And so-"

"So there's a place for food," Michael said simply, dumbfoundedly, and Red sighed but nodded.

"There's a place for food."

"_Cool_."

"I suppose so." Red managed a small smile, and Michael grinned triumphantly to himself, nodding a little. He didn't know why Red was upset, so he couldn't help him with that particular problem. But, clearly, he could still cheer him up, somewhat. So, that was enough for him. "Now, what do you want to eat?"

"Whatever, man," Michael admitted, then another troubling thought occurred, and he furrowed his eyebrows in a deep concentration as he spoke next, "... can you even cook?"

"I can… most certainly attempt to."

Michael stared at him. "... Please don't burn my house down."

Red rolled his eyes, turned around, and started to head back up the steps. But he paused halfway to look back at him, pointing to the backpack that Michael had abandoned on his bed. "Get to work, slugger."

"Sir, yes, _sir._" Michael gave a mock-salute, made a show of rolling his eyes in annoyance, and turned away so that Red couldn't see the smile forming on his lips.

* * *

When Michael's mothers came home, Michael and Red were seated in the dining room - Red managed to coax Michael out of the basement -, Michael's homework open in front of him and a half-eaten taco in his hand. He hated to admit it, but the guy actually wasn't too bad a cook. The tacos could use a little more flavor, but he'd done pretty well for his first time, so Michael would give him a pass. This time. Red was sitting across from him, watching with silent intrigue as Michael worked on his homework, and Michael could see him biting his lip every time he went to answer a question, heard a slow exhale of satisfaction when he'd gotten the answer right. It made him roll his eyes. He'd actually missed the thing breathing down his neck when he was working. He still refused his help though.

"Miiikey, we're home!" Maya poked her head into the room, and her eyes widened in surprise when she saw Red sitting there. Michael tried to picture the scene from her perspective; Her teenage son eating tacos with a grown man she didn't know. Yeah, Michael would probably have that look on his face. "Oh, who's this?"

Michael opened his mouth, realized a little too late that it was full, but before he could start speaking, Red put up a hand to stop him. Michael shut his mouth and spared him a grateful glance as the supercomputer turned back to his mother. "You must be Michael's mother - one of Michael's mothers," he corrected himself with a smile. "Maya Mell, correct? I've actually heard a bit about you. My name is Sebastian Connor - but most people simply call me Red." He finished that off with a charming smile, and Michael already knew he had his mother under his spell. He bit back a laugh at the name - Sebastian Connor. Had he come up with that on the spot or was that a planned thing? It wasn't half bad.

"Red?" Maya echoed, tilting her head to the side. She set her purse down on the table, shrugging out of her jacket - she seemed more relaxed now, but still a little perplexed. "Well, I can certainly see why. Those contacts are lovely, by the way. Such a vibrant color. Just beautiful."

Michael saw Red's lips twitch upwards, just a fraction. "Thank you, Mrs. Mell," he replied politely, folding his hands over the table. "May I ask - where's your wife?"

"Rosa's working late, unfortunately. She won't be home until midnight," Maya replied, waving a hand dismissively and leaving the room briefly to hang her jacket up. She came back quickly, pulling her hair down from the ponytail it was in. "So, how do you know Michael?" She glanced between the two of them, eyebrows arching questioningly.

Red had paused, so Michael took this as his chance to speak up. "Star Wars convention me and Jeremy went to last year." Maya absolutely _hated _Star Wars, and Michael had finally found a way to put that knowledge to good use. Because as soon as it was mentioned, his mother made a face and made no further questions on how they knew each other, instead turning her full attention to the tacos the two were eating while Red shot Michael a quizzical stare that was responded to with a shrug.

"There are more tacos in the kitchen, Mrs. Mell," Red finally spoke up again, continuing to stare at Michael as if he'd gone clinically insane for a few more moments before turning to smile at Maya again.

"Please, dear, call me Maya!" Maya exclaimed, and when she turned the full force of her bright, motherly smile on Red, Michael knew instantly that she was completely hooked. And why wouldn't she be? Red was polite, formal, sweet, and her son clearly had no issues with him. And she knew enough to know that Michael didn't just choose his friends at random. He only stayed with people he knew he could trust.

When Maya left the dining room, presumably to make herself one of those tacos, Red turned back to Michael and leaned forward over the table. "Star Wars convention?"

"You were taking too long," Michael muttered, leaning forward and grabbing his pencil again as he finished off the last of the taco. "Besides, she hates Star Wars, so I stopped the interrogation, momentarily."

Red quirked an eyebrow, but he didn't question that further.


	5. Chapter 5

So a few tacos and a lengthy conversation between Maya and Red later, Maya agreed to let Red stay the night. Michael could see she was hesitant, still clearly having doubts about what was really going on between the two of them. But when Red had reached across the table at one point during the conversation to grab Michael by the front of his shirt _just _before the boy almost crashed to the floor (he'd been leaning his chair back on two legs) and literally gave him a lecture on safety right then and there - you know, like a dad - Maya had seemed to decide right then that he was trustworthy enough. And after that, she couldn't stop gushing over the fact that her son finally had a proper father figure in his life. Red actually seemed very pleased by that particular part of the subject.

And so that's why Red was currently stretched out on Michael's couch, arms crossed over his head, and Michael was flat on his stomach in his bed with both arms shoved under the pillows, careful not to put too much pressure on his broken one. They were both quiet, but Michael knew Red wasn't asleep. Probably laying there with his eyes open, staring up into the dark ceiling in deep, brooding silence like he did.

The silence was killing him, but it seemed to get to Red more, because he was the one that broke it. "You should sleep." His voice was quiet, soft; Michael almost cursed himself as he buried his face into the pillow, wondering how the hell Red had known was awake. There was a sharp huff of laughter from Red at that reaction, but they were both silence for quite some time after that for a while before Michael pulled his arms out from under the pillows and rolled over, settling on his back with a quiet sigh.

"You know I missed you, right?" It was random, it was stupid, it was too close to a touchy-feely chick-flick moment than Michael would have liked, but when he got tired like this, he got emotional, too. He could just barely see Red's head turn toward him through the darkness, those deep red eyes searching for Michael's.

"I'm aware." It was a quiet, short response, and Michael nodded to himself as he waited for what he knew was bound to come next. And it did. "I missed you, too, slugger."

"You know, I've never actually ever gotten into a fight?" Michael murmured, allowing his eyes to slip shut for a moment. He was exhausted, he truly was, but at the same time he couldn't seem to force himself to sleep. Red hummed lowly in acknowledgement as Michael continued, "except that one time I punched a guy who was pushing Jeremy around and got thrown over the swings. But that was Kindergarten."

Red huffed out another breath of laughter. "Did you win?" He asked lightly, and Michael could picture his smile through the darkness, amused, concerned and curious all in one. He chuckled a bit as he replied.

"No."

"Ah." Red actually laughed a little, sounding just as tired as Michael. They both fell silent for a while until Red spoke up again, amusement and exhaustion lacing his words as he sighed. "You can't sleep at all, can you?" And Michael made a little "mm-mm" sound as he shook his head, bringing his good arm up behind his head and resting the other one across his stomach, fingers twitching to grab his shirt and failing miserably when the movement caused a spark of pain to shoot up his entire arm, stopping him completely. He was glad Red couldn't see the pain on his face right then, because he would have given him another lecture.

The next question surprised him. "Have you been having nightmares?"

Michael frowned, eyebrows furrowing, but he answered honestly. "I've had a couple, yeah. About the Play, Jeremy…" He trailed off and shrugged, though he knew Red couldn't see him. "But it's just nightmares, right? Not that big a deal."

Tense silence passed for a few minutes until Red spoke again, a little quieter. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" Michael twisted his head around to look at him now, a little frustrated to realize he couldn't. Red sighed from his place on the couch, and he heard it shift slightly as he moved positions, probably sitting up or getting comfortable.

"I'm sorry I haven't been here. I should have."

Michael blinked slowly, eyes narrowing. "You did the right thing, Red. Sure, I missed you. A lot. But I can handle the nightmares if it means that Jeremy's Squip is gone for good. And, hey, you're back now. That's what matters." He paused for a second to let all of that sink in before asking, "is that what's had you so upset?"

There was a low, shaky sigh in response to his words, and a hesitant-sounding, "... yeah." Michael nodded a little, easily accepting the answer.

"Well, don't beat yourself up over it, okay? You did what you had to do. I know that. Believe me, I know that."

"Right." Red didn't sound very convinced, but he didn't push the subject, so Michael let it drop. They were both quiet for a while, again, as they both got lost in their own thoughts. Michael still didn't feel like he'd be sleeping anytime soon, and he was honestly about ready to get up and take some of the sleeping medication his last therapist had given him. Only for Red to speak up with a better suggestion. "I'm going to start singing."

"What?" Michael actually let out a few bewildered laughs at that.

"When you couldn't sleep before, I played a certain song on a loop in your head until you did. It helped you fall asleep," Red told him matter-of-factly, and Michael raised his eyebrows, faintly surprised by that. He squinted, mind searching, trying to remember the song. "I can't do that now, but I _can _sing."

"Can you?" Michael mused quietly, then gave another shrug. And, upon realizing again that Red couldn't see him, he spoke. "Knock yourself out." He was actually curious to hear him sing, to be honest. And Michael could never turn down music. Unless it was country music, because Michael hated country music. Any other music was good.

When Red finally began singing, Michael was genuinely surprised by how… amazing it sounded. He stayed silent, taking in every word.

"_If I could begin to be, half of what you think of me  
__I could do about anything - I could even learn how to love.  
__When I see the way you act, wondering when I'm coming back  
__I could do about anything, I could even learn how to love like you…"_

Michael smiled a bit to himself, despite himself, closing his eyes and letting out a deep sigh as he sank deeper into the bed. Red's voice was soft, quiet, enchanting. He recognized the song, too. He was surprised to feel himself falling asleep - music didn't usually have this effect on him, but something about the song, about Red's voice, he just couldn't help himself.

"_I always thought I might be bad, now I'm sure that it's true  
_'_Cause, I think you're so good… And I'm nothing like you  
__Look at you go - I just adore you, I wish that I knew what makes you think I'm so special…"_

And Michael fell asleep, lulled by the song, by the sound of Red's voice. He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Red went quiet when Michael's quiet snores filled the room, faintly surprised to feel tears brewing in his eyes - He gave a silent, sarcastic thanks to his mom on that one as he rubbed them away and pulled his arm over his face, taking in a shaky breath and letting it out slowly. "... Sleep tight, slugger." He let out a low, quiet, breathless laugh into the darkness. "You have a big day tomorrow."

* * *

"Rise and shine, sport! Today's gonna be a big day!"

Michael groaned into his pillow, loudly, and made an attempt to pull the blanket over his head. Using his broken arm. Then he groaned again, this time out of pain, and reluctantly rolled over to glare up at Red, who was standing beside his bed, head tilted, looking concerned now. "... Are you okay?" The supercomputer deadpanned as Michael shoved himself into a sitting position, reaching out for his glasses and putting them on without another word.

Michael's response? He picked up his pillow, using his good hand this time, and slammed it into Red's face. At first, Red seemed shocked that it had actually hit him, and then he just looked offended. Michael just hopped up off of his bed and, stumbling a bit in the process, managed to make his way over to his dresser to grab some clothes to change into, wondering vaguely if he'd need a shower and if he'd have time to take one and eat breakfast before he got to school. He doubted he'd slept in, hell, Red had probably woken him up earlier than usual, so there was a good possibility.

He turned back with a shirt clutched in one hand to see Red neatly tucking the pillow back into place, and narrowed his eyes faintly at him until the supercomputer turned back to him. "What time is it?" The boy grouched after a moment, running his fingers through his somewhat tangled hair.

"5:43," Red reported with an innocent smile, and Michael paused for a second before turning away again to grab a towel. Okay, so he had time to make take a shower and make a quick breakfast - maybe cereal, at best. Red watched him curiously as he gathered his things, eventually moving forward to take a seat on Michael's bed. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah."

Red actually let out a small, light laugh and shook his head. "You're not a morning person," he sighed, then cleared his throat and stood up. "I assume you'll be taking a shower?"

"Yeah," Michael mumbled again, fighting against the rising irritation as hard as he could. He definitely _wasn't _a morning person, but at least he was trying to curb his temper. Meanwhile, he couldn't find his fucking socks, which wasn't helping his mood at all.

"Wonderful. I'll go cook breakfast while you do. Pancakes sound good?"

Michael finally managed to fish out a pair of socks and shut the drawer with a little more force than necessary. "Sure. Yes. I really don't care." And Red, bless his soul, he was an angel from Heaven, just grinned and nodded, completely unfazed by the boy's attitude. Michael made a mental note to thank him later when he wasn't tired out of his fucking mind and could actually do so without sounding slightly sarcastic.

"I've put your backpack together, by the way. Your parents have left for work, and you got a text about five minutes ago." And with that, Red was walking upstairs before Michael had time to ask who had texted him. So with a groan, he pushed himself away from his dresser and headed toward the nightstand, practically radiating irritation as he grabbed his phone. What maniac could _possibly _be texting him at five in the goddamn morning-

Oh, it was Jeremy.

Asking for a ride to school. Michael closed his eyes for a moment, mumbling to himself. Showering only took him about fifteen minutes, ten if he rushed, and with Red already cooking, the food should be done by the time he was out of the shower. He could either eat fast and go or eat on the way - he would probably go with the latter if Jeremy hadn't eaten, probably end up bringing him something for breakfast, as well. So Michael sent a quick text back agreeing to give him a ride and asking if he'd eaten before setting his phone back down and heading to the bathroom to shower, just barely reminding himself to wrap his cast before he did at the last minute.

He came back out in the fresh clothes he'd picked out - ten minutes, as planned - drying his hair with his good hand and doing a (probably) stupid thing and picking his phone up with the broken one. He clenched his teeth against the pain, waiting for it to fade a bit before swiping the screen to see if Jeremy had responded. He had - and he hadn't eaten breakfast yet. Michael replied telling him he was bringing him something and he'd be there soon, then finally dropped the phone back on the bed and tossed the towel into a laundry hamper before unwrapping the cast, making sure he hadn't gotten any part of it wet. He pulled his shoes on, eyed his hoodie wistfully (he couldn't wear it with the cast), grabbed his backpack and headed upstairs.

Red greeted him with a smile, and Michael, who was luckily in a better mood, returned it easily before checking to see how many pancakes Red had made. "I'm assuming the text was Jeremy asking for a ride." Michael gave him a curious look, and Red, smirking, gestured to his head. "My quantum processor all-"

Michael held a hand up. "Still too tired for that."

Red laughed a bit, gesturing to the pancakes. "I prepared an extra batch for him, just in case," he told Michael, amused.

"You're the best." Michael simply reached past him and grabbed one of the pancakes off of one of the plates, then turned and headed for the cabinet to get a bottle of syrup. He grabbed a container to put Jeremy's pancakes in, too, stuffing the one he was holding in his mouth and pouring some of the syrup in right after, before setting the bottle down, hands free to put Jeremy's pancakes into the container before spinning around to grab a fork and knife, putting those in along with the pancakes and putting the top on as he chewed. Red seemed mildly horrified as he watched, and faintly amused.

"You're an odd child."

"Thank you," Michael said once he'd swallowed what was in his mouth, running his tongue across his lips and reaching for the other pancake on his plate. Red put a hand over his to stop him, and offered him a fork and a knife for himself instead, which he took somewhat reluctantly. "So what are you doing today?"

"Unsure, at the moment. I'll find something to do." Red shrugged, but Michael noticed, again, that Red wouldn't meet his gaze. He narrowed his eyes at the supercomputer, but reluctantly dropped the subject when Red made a show of checking the clock. "You should go, don't want to keep Jeremy waiting."

Michael grimaced, but nodded slowly. He thought he'd gotten to the bottom of what was going on with Red the night before, but maybe he was wrong. But Red had _said _that was why he'd been upset - and Red wouldn't lie to him, right? He shook his head and nodded, grabbing his plate and the container holding Jeremy's pancakes, which he managed to use to balance the syrup on.

Red snorted and eased past him, amused. "I'll get the door."

"Thank you," Michael chirped as he followed, offering a sweet smile. He was good once he got to his car, balancing the stuff on top as he opened the doors. He set the container and syrup in the passenger seat, and balanced the plate on his lap once he got in, grabbing the syrup briefly to pour some onto the last remaining pancake before setting it back down. After staring at the fork and knife and debating for a bit, he ended up just shoving the entire pancake into his mouth, setting the plate and silverware aside before starting the car and pulling out of his driveway.

He reached Jeremy's house in record time, honking the horn and waiting. He waved at Jeremy's father when he came outside after his best friend, and flashed a grin at Jeremy as he opened the door to the passenger's side. "Your personal uber, at your service."

Jeremy laughed, a little breathlessly, and threw his backpack onto the floorboard before grabbing the container and syrup and getting in, shutting the door behind him. He waved to his father as Michael pulled out of the driveway and started down the road, both of them relaxing in their seats as Jeremy cracked open the container and began to eat. "And you brought me pancakes. This, this is why you're my favorite person."

Those words sparked a brief warmth, but it didn't last very long when Michael remembered that those had been a few of the last kind words Jeremy had spoken to him before the whole Squip thing had started. He had to force his smile not to melt, but his grip tightened on the steering wheel as he stared ahead.

The reaction, unfortunately, didn't go unnoticed by Jeremy. He felt his best friend's concerned gaze trained on him, but he tried to ignore it - until Jeremy spoke up, at least. "Hey, Micha?"

The use of the nickname warmed Michael and worried him at the same time. "What's up, Jere?"

"I think, um…" Jeremy shifted a little in his seat, seeming hesitant at first, but took a breath and continued anyway. "I think we need to talk. About what happened - about the- the Squips, and, um… and… and Halloween."

It took everything Michael had not to slam on brakes right then and there. His shoulders tensed a bit, instinctively, reflexively. He and Jeremy still hadn't spoken about any of it - Not the Squip incident, not Halloween, not the bathroom - none of it. Michael had been content with that, and he'd thought Jeremy had been, too. He'd thought they were both ready and willing to put it behind them - but if Jeremy wanted to talk about it… then they should, right? To be honest, it was a conversation Michael was dreading.

"Okay," he replied after a moment, his voice strained.

"Okay?" Jeremy sounded relieved, and yet like he'd been dreading that response at the same time.

"Okay," Michael repeated, hesitant, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. "Now?"

"Do… Do you _want _to talk about it now?" Jeremy's words were slow, careful, uncertain. Michael resisted the urge to look at him and instead kept his gaze trained on the road, taking a turn down another street and checking ahead to see how far the school was. Never thought he'd be anxious to get to school, and yet…

"You're the one that wants to talk about it."

"I just think we should, you know? You- You just still seem upset and-" Jeremy took a deep breath, picking at the sleeves of his cardigan as he continued, his words sounding rushed and forced. "I know we haven't talked about any of it, and I said some pretty messed up stuff and you just kind of- forgave me without us even working anything out. And I mean yeah I apologized- like, once, but… you just… you don't seem okay."

Now this is where Michael started to get confused. "What- Jere, of course I'm okay. I'm fine. I'm not upset."

"You don't seem okay. It's like everything I say triggers some kind of bad reaction or- or memory, or whatever? Like just now, and yesterday-"

"You caught me by surprise yesterday," Michael interjected, his grip tightening a little more on the steering wheel as he finally risked a glance at Jeremy, who seemed just as frustrated with the conversation now as he was. "Look, I'm fine, alright? Seriously. I'm good. _We're _good. All of that? S'in the past."

"You can barely look me in the eyes, Michael. That's not fine."

"I'm driving."

"I'm not just talking about now!" Jeremy ran his fingers through his hair, his frustration only seeming to grow stronger. "I'm talking about any day, man. Some days, yeah, okay, you seem fine."

"I _am_ f-"

Jeremy interrupted, sounding desperate. "And then I say something, or someone else says something, and all of a sudden you can barely speak to me, can't look at me, and you get that look on your face-"

"What _look_?" Michael actually laughed a bit, a faint edge of hysteria lacing his voice now.

"I don't know, like- like someone ran over your puppy," Jeremy mumbled, sinking back into the seat again.

"I don't have a puppy."

"Hypothetically!"

"I don't-" Michael laughed again, not really sure why he was laughing at all, and then fell silent for a few moments, staring ahead. Then, finally, reluctantly, he spoke up again. "I just… I don't know what you want me to say, man."

"I want you to- I don't know. Yell at me. Tell me what a dick I've been. How much I hurt you. Be _angry_. It's like-" Jeremy actually laughed a bit, himself, now, but the sound came out bitter and dry, forced. "You can't even get _angry_, man, you can't even be pissed at me! Why is that, huh? Why can't you just get mad at me?"

"Wh- Why are you pushing this, anyway?" Michael shook his head a little bit, mostly at himself, kicking himself for not being able to get _over _it, already. He should be fine. He should be able to forget it all, what happened between them. And some days, he was able to. And then, days like this, it was that much harder when he couldn't push it down. And now Jeremy was trying to talk to him about it, trying to get him to open up about it, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. "You've got your own problems to deal with. Why worry about mine?"

"What?" Jeremy sounded bewildered and exasperated all at once. "Because you're my best friend, dude! And you worry about me all the time- why shouldn't I worry about you?"

"Because I don't matter?" The words slipped out before Michael could stop them, and he was cringing before Jeremy could even spit out his response.

"_What_?"

"Jeremy. Drop it. Please." Michael glanced ahead again, more desperate than ever now to get to school - when had the goddamn drive gotten so long?

"Is that what this is about- you don't think- you-" Jeremy sounded genuinely horrified, and Michael could feel his gaze practically burning into the side of his head. "Jesus Christ, Micha, what- what did I _do _to you?"

"You didn't do anything!" Michael exclaimed, his head whirling around instantly to finally look at him. Jeremy looked as horrified as he'd sounded, and like he was kicking himself. Badly. "I already felt like that before-" He paused, shooting a swift glance at the road. "-before any of _that _happened."

"But I made it worse," Jeremy said knowingly, grimly, and this time Michael was at a loss for what to say. He turned back to the road as Jeremy collapsed into the seat again, combing his fingers through his hair before finally speaking, his voice quiet. "You do matter, Michael. God, you matter so much."

Michael shook his head a little and swallowed, trying to fight back the sudden lump that had formed in his throat, trying to ignore the stinging in his eyes and the painful, twisting feeling in his chest. He kept silent then, praying that was the last of the conversation.

Nope, he didn't get that lucky. "Why can't you just get angry at me?" Jeremy's voice was quiet, almost a whisper; Michael had to strain to hear him over the car engine. "You're allowed to be angry. You're _supposed _to be angry."

"Well I'm not. Okay? I'm not," Michael insisted, finally managing to speak again, his voice strained as he fought to keep it steady. "I tried to be, I wanted to be - but I can't. I can't be angry at you."

"All you did was try to help me and I pushed you aside - for months," Jeremy insisted, his voice raising slightly again. "Months, Michael, of treating you like- like you didn't even exist, of being nothing but a dick to you. And then the bathroom - And after all of that, all of it, you can't be _angry _at me? Not even a _little_ bit? _How_, Michael?"

"I don't know," Michael's voice finally cracked, but he was relieved to see the school finally in view. He pushed a little harder on the gas pedal, pushing to go faster.

"Michael-"

"I don't- I don't want to talk about this anymore, okay, Jeremy, please?" Michael finally snapped - well, not really snapped, but his words came out more rushed than he would have liked in an attempt to stop his voice from shaking. He failed, by the way. Jeremy took a deep breath and let it out heavily, but he nodded and sank back into the seat, turning his head to look out the window. Satisfied that that was the end of the conversation, Michael allowed the car to slow a little bit, letting out a low, shaky sigh.

He didn't speak to Jeremy again when they got there, just a quiet hum of acknowledgement as Jeremy thanked him for the ride and they got out of the car. Michael simply grabbed his backpack and shouldered the door shut before heading inside, gaze fixed ahead as he forced himself to straighten up and raised his head wordlessly, putting on a smile and trying to look as convincing as possible despite the fact that he felt like he was breaking inside.

A big day, indeed…

* * *

After that, Michael could only describe lunch in one word: Awkward.

And _everybody _could sense it. Jake traded glances between Michael and Jeremy, repeatedly, while Chloe and Jenna were straight up avoiding looking at either of them. Christine, however, being the second mom friend in the group, began trying to help. She wrapped one arm around Michael's shoulders, and the other around Jeremy's, pulling the two of them close to her and squeezing tightly. "You know what would be great? Slushies! You two should go get us slushies!"

Michael bit back a groan and looked toward Jeremy, who had the same uncertainty that Michael was feeling written all over his face. "Slushies?" He finally asked, looking back at Christine, who nodded eagerly and let Jeremy go to turn completely to face him, putting her hands on his shoulders.

"Slushies, Michael! And you're the only one here with a car."

Chloe finally looked up from her phone and narrowed her eyes toward the other girl quizzically. "_I_ have a car-" She paused, though, at the glare from Christine. She then looked at Michael, then Jeremy, then her mouth formed a small "o" shape as she paused. "Nevermind."

"Okay, but why do I have to go?" Jeremy finally spoke up, somewhat hesitantly, and Christine let Michael go to turn back to him.

"Well, Michael's gonna need help carrying the slushies!" She explained, eyes wide. "And who better to go with him than his _bestest_ friend? Come on, I've been dying for a blue raspberry slushie." She glanced between them wildly, and Michael grimaced slightly as he spared a glance toward Jeremy, who looked just as helpless.

Catching his gaze, though, Jeremy managed a faint smile and a shrug. "Up to Michael, he's the one with the car."

"I-" Michael sighed, screwing his eyes shut for a moment. Wonderful, more awkwardness. Honestly, he was just nervous about whether or not Jeremy would try to bring up the Halloween party again. The last few months had been hard with Jeremy ignoring him. It had hurt. He wasn't going to deny that. But it also wasn't something he wanted to talk about with Jeremy, either. He didn't want to make him feel bad or tell him how much he'd hurt him and he didn't want to get angry. He didn't think he _could _be angry. It hadn't even been Jeremy - most of the time - it was the Squip.

But he also didn't want this awkwardness hanging around them. Michael had told Jeremy that he didn't want to talk about it. He just had to trust that Jeremy would respect that and keep things simple between them. So, with a slow, reluctant sigh, Michael blinked his eyes open and nodded. "... Just feel lucky that I've been wanting a slushie, myself."

Jeremy cracked a grin that made Michael's heart flutter as he turned back to the rest of the group. "And specific flavors?"

"Blue raspberry for me!" Christine exclaimed, and Michael nodded a little, glancing toward the others expectantly.

"Cherry," Chloe said after a moment, and Brooke let out a sharp exclamation of agreement, nodding brightly. Jenna tilted her head thoughtfully, but Jake had another issue.

"Okay, wait, who's paying?"

"I am." Michael and Jeremy spoke literally at the same time, then paused and turned their heads to look at each other, silent. Then Michael cracked a grin, and Jeremy just started laughing, both of them seeming a little relieved as most of the tension was released. The others started giggling a little, themselves, until Michael shook his head and forced himself to focus.

"Guess both of us," he replied, nodding a little. "One blue raspberry, two cherries-" He sent Jake and Jenna expectant looks until Jenna finally spoke up saying she wanted a cherry, too, and Jake settled on blue raspberry. Jeremy ended up ripping out a piece of paper to write down what everyone had wanted, but Michael already had it memorized.

"Alright, c'mon." Michael checked the clock, narrowing his eyes before shifting through his pocket with his good hand, pulling his keys out and holding them up. "We'll be back in a bit." Jeremy hummed in agreement, folding the paper and stuffing it in his pocket before giving Michael a thumbs up, and the two were off.

They were mostly quiet as they walked to the car, but before they'd reached it completely, Jeremy turned and pulled Michael into a hug. It genuinely startled the boy for a moment, but he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around his best friend in return, confused but definitely not complaining. "What's this for?"

"Nothing," Jeremy mumbled, not letting go. "Everything." Michael frowned, but fell silent, curling his fingers into Jeremy's cardigan, burying his face into his shoulder with a sigh. They were both quiet for a while after that, with Jeremy practically holding onto Michael for dear life and Michael, for whatever reason, fighting back tears.

Then, without a word, Jeremy pulled back and offered him a shaky smile, giving his good arm a squeeze. "Come on, we gotta get those slushies before lunch ends," he joked quietly, and Michael let out a faint chuckle and nodded his agreement, turning to open the drivers side and get in the car.

The drive after that was mostly silent, but not the tense silence it had been before. Which Michael was definitely glad for. When they did finally get to 7/11, Michael was practically bouncing with excitement for the slushies.

When they got out of the car, he noticed Jeremy was just looking at him, smiling slightly in amusement. "What?"

"You're adorable," Jeremy said simply, and didn't seem to think much of his words as he walked forward and opened the door for them to go inside. Michael, however, froze for a second as that weird, electric feeling returned for a moment before he finally managed to push himself to move forward, following him inside with a slightly breathless sounding laugh.

"Um… Thanks."

"No problem." Jeremy clasped his hands together, letting his gaze drift around for a moment. "... I'm gonna get some chips. You start on the slushies." With that, he headed off down one of the aisles, grinning, and Michael watched him go with a small smile before turning to head for the slushie stand…

… And immediately bumped into someone.

He staggered back with a sharp gasp, reaching behind him with his broken arm to grab onto something to keep himself steady. A bad move, but better than crashing to the floor. Before he could do too much damage, though, a steady hand was gripping his arm and pulling him forward, holding on until he was steady on his feet once more.

He looked up into a pair of bright, electric blue eyes, and froze in complete shock.

The boy he was staring at was maybe two or three years older than him, certainly much taller than Jeremy - somehow - with dark, tanned-looking skin. His eyebrows were slightly arched and furrowed together in a concerned-looking gesture, curly dark black hair falling into his face. Michael vaguely noticed a dyed blue streak running from the front of his hair - probably stretching all the way toward the back, but Michael couldn't see.

It was only when the stranger flashed him a bright, charming grin did Michael finally manage to snap back to reality enough to realize that he'd just been staring in silence with his heart hammering in his chest. Those bright eyes were genuinely _mesmerizing_. Michael felt like he was having a heart attack.

"Might wanna be more careful where you step," the boy told him with an amused smile, tilting his head and gesturing toward Michael's cast. "Don't wanna do anymore damage to that, do you?"

"Definitely not," Michael finally managed to reply with a slightly embarrassed laugh. "Sorry, man, I didn't- I didn't mean to bump into you."

The stranger's smile only widened. "Believe me, I don't mind," He laughed, and Michael felt his heart stop beating for a second. "So, how did you break that?" He gestured at Michael's cast again. "An act of clumsiness, or…?"

"That… Is such a long story, my God," Michael let out another laugh, this time more amused than embarrassed. "I broke it during a… really intense school play."

"Ouch." The stranger hissed through his teeth, a sympathetic look crossing his face briefly before his eyes widened. "Oh, my, where _are _my manners?" He held a hand out. "I'm Omair. Omair West."

Michael exhaled slowly, reaching out and taking his hand. "Michael Mell." His heart stuttered again as Omair squeezed his hand and gave him another smile before pulling back, and Michael managed a small smile of his own, trying to ignore the fact that he was still internally dying. "It's nice to meet you. Aside from the, um, bumping into you part. But other than that, it- You know what? I'm- I'm gonna shut up now, before I start- before I start rambling, yeah."

Omair's lips twitched, those electric blue eyes seeming to sparkle even brighter with amusement. "Oh, please don't. It's actually quite adorable."

"Oh my god." Michael literally choked on nothing but air and started laughing, a rush of heat rising to his face. "Th- Thank you?"

"Don't mention it." Omair looked at him with interest, seeming like he was about to say more. However, before he could, Jeremy had rushed back to Michael's side, holding two bags of Doritos.

"Okay, got the chip-sssss…" Jeremy skidded to a stop beside Michael and blinked at Omair once, then twice, then again. He seemed to tense up slightly at the sight, just for a second, then abruptly relaxed again with a sharp exhale. "Who's this?"

"Omair West." Omair gave him a small smile, not as big nor as charming as the grins he'd given to Michael, who was actually kind of pleased by that for a second. And then he reminded himself to focus. "And you?"

"Jeremy Heere." Jeremy shifted slightly on his feet, studying Omair for a moment before looking at Michael curiously. "You know him?"

"Uh, we literally just met," Michael exclaimed, the embarrassment returning as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I bumped into him." He gestured toward Omair with his broken hand, then visibly flinched at the throb of pain that rushed through his arm. "Ah."

"You might want to keep that still," Omair advised, and without warning, he stepped forward. His hands curled around the cast, gentle but firm, as he shifted forward, closer than Michael had expected, and the boy literally felt like his face was on fire as Omair raised his arm to tuck it close to his chest. "It's easier to keep it right… there. I'd suggest using a sling, as well."

"A sling," Michael echoed numbly, mouth opening and closing as he fought to spit the words out. "Right, yeah. A sling."

Omair flashed him another one of those easy grins, pulling one hand back but keeping the other on his cast. "It's difficult to keep a broken limb still. Most of the time you forget and try to use it as normal. A sling will prevent that."

"I'll keep that in mind, then," Michael mumbled, eyebrows knitting together as he stared up at Omair, still dumbfounded as to how anyone's eyes could _glow _like that. So _blue_. "Thanks."

"Always happy to help." Omair finished the sentence with a wink and Michael felt the entire world jerk to a frightening halt. And then Omair was pulling away, fingers lingering on the cast briefly before the touch was gone, and Michael was genuinely disappointed for a second when the world started moving again.

He shook it off with a deep breath and managed a small smile, just wanting another one of those heart-stopping grins in response. He got his wish as Omair stepped back, pushing a hand into his pocket and pulling out… a sharpie. A fucking sharpie.

Michael knew what was happening before Omair stepped forward, fingers finding their way to his cast again and pulling him a little bit closer. He didn't say anything, didn't protest - god, why would he? - as Omair started writing. Just watched, mesmerized as his hand moved swiftly and carefully across the cast, the sharpie pinched between his fingers as he scribbled beside the signatures the group had left. When he pulled back, Michael took a moment to scan the words he'd written, a smile appearing on his face.

_Hope you feel better, love. Don't forget the sling ;) 3 - Omair_

And under that was a number. A phone number.

Michael was, again, dying inside. Omair just flashed him another one of those smiles and put the top back on the sharpie, which he abruptly flicked forward, tapping Michael's nose with it. "Give me a call sometime."

"Y- Yeah," Michael stuttered uselessly in agreement, blinking rapidly at him. That nose tap had been absolutely adorable. What the fuck? The boy wasn't sure he'd ever felt something like this before - something so fluttery. Maybe years ago, around Jeremy… But now? Michael was a _wreck_ inside. Probably on the outside, too. "Okay. Sure. Definitely."

Omair gave him one last wink and then turned back to Jeremy. "It was nice meeting you." With that, he spun around and walked past them, gently brushing his shoulder against Michael's as he passed. Michael took a deep breath and let it out slowly, turning his head briefly to glance after him before looking down at his cast, his gaze scanning the words written down. Holy crap, his heart felt like a jackhammer against his chest.

"... Wow," Jeremy said simply, and Michael - having forgotten he was there - literally squealed, practically jumping out of his skin. Jeremy was silent, staring at him for a moment before he just started laughing.

"God, not funny," Michael groaned when he could actually function again, feeling a rush of heat rise to his face. But he stayed silent after that, listening to him laugh. The fuzzy, fluttering feeling faded away, but it was immediately replaced with something else. Something warmer, bubbling in his chest. He watched the way Jeremy's blue eyes - such a pale blue, not the electric, vibrant color Omair's had been - lit up as he laughed, the way his head tilted adorably and his eyebrows furrowed together, lips pulling up into the most beautiful, beaming grin that Michael had ever seen, showing off each of his teeth in the process. Each burst of laughter brought a spark of electricity to his chest. Like a lightning bolt. And it trailed all the way down to his stomach, twisting painfully in his gut, but oh, wow, it was such an amazing kind of pain that he _loved _so much that it had Michael genuinely wondering if he was a masochist.

Jeremy's laughter had subsided and turned into small, light chuckles, but the laugh still rang and echoed in Michael's ears long after the boy had stopped. He marveled for a second, wondering how long it had been since that fluttering feeling had made an appearance around Jeremy. It had been quite some time. Now the only feelings were sparkles of electricity, buzzing through him so intensely he felt like he was genuinely being electrocuted.

"Sorry," Jeremy giggled, and the sound of his voice brought Michael's thoughts back to the present. "I didn't mean to startle you. I'm just… _wow_."

"Yeah," Michael laughed a little as well, running his fingers through his hair and looking down at his cast. "A really hot guy just gave me his number. I'm shook."

"I'm not," Jeremy commented, and Michael's eyes flickered up to him in faint surprise. Jeremy blinked, and backtracked almost immediately. "I mean, you- you know, he's- you're- you're great. You're a great guy. Um… I'm… I'm just, I'm gonna… We should get those slushies!"

Michael blinked, genuinely confused now. That electricity was buzzing brighter than ever, though. He felt like a lightning storm on the inside. "Yes. We should."

"Great. I'm gonna- I'm gonna go do that, then." Jeremy didn't move.

"Right." Michael's eyebrows pulled together slowly, staring at him with an almost dumbfounded expression. "Good."

"... good," Jeremy echoed awkwardly, then finally turned around, almost mechanically, and headed for the slushie stand. Michael stayed still for a moment, staring after him, then turned his head to look toward the door, staring out the window. He stayed still for a few seconds, silently comparing the electricity he felt around Jeremy to the fluttering he'd felt around Omair. Wondered when the feelings for Jeremy had changed from that particular fluttering to the electricity, if it was a bad thing…

And finally, he turned his gaze to the number on his cast, frowned, and shook his head and walked after Jeremy. "Cherry slushies first!"


End file.
